A Christmas Affair

by Carole Mortimer

  From Backcover…

  'You don't give a damn for anyone else's feelings but your own!'

  For the last five years Cathy had worked long and hard for her boss, Dominic Reynolds. Their relationship was in many ways closer than most marriages. But the real man below the dynamic, super-cool exterior eluded Cathy, however much she tried. Perhaps it was time to accept that he just wasn't interested in her as a woman and to make a clean break from him. But Dominic's reaction to the news that she was leaving was a rather surprising one…

  Excerpt…

  Cathy wrenched her mouth away from his, breathing hard, her eyes dark grey pools of confusion. 'What are you doing?' she gasped breathlessly.

  His lips travelled down the column of her throat. 'I know it's been a long time for me,' he murmured gruffly, 'but I didn't think I was that out of practice.'

  She didn't care how long ago it was since he had held a woman like this; the fact was, it was she whom he was holding now—and her defences were crumbling fast.

  A Christmas Affair

  by

  Carole Mortimer

  CHAPTER ONE

  WHAT were you supposed to do when the man you were in love with didn't even seem to re­alise you were female, let alone that you had lustful feelings towards him?

  Cathy knew exactly what she was going to do, and Dominic Reynolds wasn't going to like it one little bit!

  Even as the thought entered her mind—with a determination that was unshakeable—a bel­low of rage came from within the adjoining of­fice, quickly followed by the man himself exploding out of the room to cross to her desk with forceful strides.

  Mary, one of the secretaries from the outer office, had been in the middle of a conver­sation with Cathy, but she took one look at Dominic's thunderous expression and scuttled from the room.

  Cathy's own manner was as casual as usual as she continued to look through the papers strewn across her desktop, shaking her head derisively. 'If Mary wasn't of a nervous dis­position before she came to work for you, she certainly is now,' she drawled in an amused voice, not at all perturbed herself by his ob­vious bad temper—or the reason for it.

  Dominic scowled. 'I don't give a damn about Mary's nerves.'

  'That's the trouble with you,' Cathy bit out tautly, her eyes flashing with anger, coloured a deep smoky grey by the emotion. 'You "don't give a damn" about anyone else's feelings but your own!'

  Dominic's mouth tightened: a finely chis­elled mouth that looked too perfect to firm with temper or thin with displeasure—and yet Cathy knew it was capable of much worse than that; Mary hadn't got her nervous disposition for no reason during the last three months she had worked as one of Dominic's secretaries.

  'What the hell do you call this?' He waved a piece of headed paper in front of her nose.

  Cathy didn't flinch, coolly raising blonde brows at the object that so offended him. 'Well,' she said with a casual lack of interest, 'I don't know what you call it, but it looks de­cidedly like a letter to me.' She looked at him challengingly.

  His harshly indrawn breath showed he wasn't in the least amused by her levity at his expense. But at this precise moment Cathy didn't par­ticularly care what he felt. Maybe she would later—she was sure she would later!—but right now she was only concerned with showing him she didn't give a damn.

  Which was a complete fabrication. She had cared about Dominic from that very first in­terview with him five years ago, had loved him almost from the day she came to work for him. But, as she very well knew, Dominic didn't care about anyone or anything, only about being successful—which, with his varied and prof­itable enterprises, he certainly was.

  Women were a non-event in his life, Dominic not even seeming to see them most of the time. Which Cathy had found, when she had been told on more than one occasion that she was beautiful enough to be a model, could be very frustrating.

  Perhaps if she didn't love him, if Dominic didn't look like a romantic hero himself, with his slightly overlong dark hair, fierce green eyes, perfectly chiselled features, and tall, muscular body invariably clothed in a three-piece suit of one sombre colour or another, it wouldn't have mattered quite so much what he thought—or rather, didn't think—of women.

  But Dominic had the sort of male good looks that could stop conversation in a room when he entered it, could have—and had had!—an Arabian princess promising him half her father's kingdom if he would marry her. The former he seemed genuinely not to notice, and the latter he had ignored as a childish prank— except that Cathy knew the princess had been perfectly in earnest!

  But what could you do with a man who had never, to Cathy's knowledge, even invited a woman out with him for the evening during the whole time she had worked for him?

  To Dominic, social occasions were just an extension of work, and if he required a female companion for one of those occasions then Cathy, as his personal assistant, would do.

  He could be so flattering to a woman's ego!

  And sarcasm wasn't going to get her anywhere, she acknowledged miserably.

  Nothing she had done the last five years had got her anywhere with this man; to him she was just a second storage unit for all his business dealings, his right-hand man, his Man Friday. She might just as well have been a man for all the notice he took of her.

  Which brought her right back to the reason for his fury with her now.

  'You demanded to have time off for Christmas even though you knew it wasn't convenient,' he rasped, his eyes glittering angrily. 'You even persuaded me into letting you use the Audi Quattro when you suddenly decided you had to leave for your sister's home in Devon in the middle of the night while a snowstorm raged. And then,' he breathed deeply, 'after only one night away instead of the week you had insisted upon, you arrived back here to give me this!' He slapped the letter angrily against the palm of his other hand.

  'Let's just get the facts straight, shall we?' She straightened, her gaze unflinching—one thing: no matter how arrogantly demanding he was, he had never managed to fray her nerves to breaking-point as he had poor Mary and the other secretaries. And he wasn't about to start now! 'It's never convenient with you if I take a holiday, let alone want to spend Christmas with my family. Just because you don't believe in them—families or Christmas—there's no reason to think that the rest of the world isn't entitled to them either!'

  His jaw was clenched tightly at her verbal blows. 'I don't think the rest of the world—'

  'All right, then, maybe it's just my wanting a holiday with my family that you find so of­fensive,' she snapped irritably.

  'You took your damned holiday, two days early, no matter what my feelings were,' he scowled. 'So what's the problem?'

  'I haven't got to that yet,' she grated, eyes narrowed angrily. 'Secondly,' she said pointedly, 'I did not persuade you into letting me take the Audi, you offered. Thirdly,' she continued determinedly as he would have in­terrupted, 'I went to my sister's so suddenly not because of some trivial female whim, which is what you seem to be implying, but because of an emergency!'

  'An emergency that is obviously over now, or you wouldn't be back here,' said Dominic impatiently. 'So I still don't see what the problem is.'

  Oh, yes, the emergency was definitely over now. Cathy smiled to herself as she thought of the ecstatic telephone call she had received from her friend Jade late the previous evening telling her of the wedding she and David were planning for the New Year. It could so easily have worked out unhappily for all concerned.

  But the joy Jade and David had un­doubtedly found in each other had only strengthened her own resolve where Dominic was concerned, which was why she had come into the office at all today.

  'Fourthly,' she told him firmly, 'I gave you that�
�' she indicated the letter he crushed so savagely in his hand '—because I no longer want to work for you.'

  He drew in a harsh breath. 'Just like that?' He was outraged.

  No, not just like that. She no more wanted to leave than he seemed to want her to go. But their reasons for that were completely dif­ferent. She because just being close to him had to be better than nothing; he because, as they both knew, he didn't want to lose the best per­sonal assistant he had ever had.

  But, after five years of believing that being close to him was better than nothing, Cathy knew that was no longer true. She loved him, would always love him, but she was twenty-six, and if she wanted to make any sort of life for herself she knew she would have to make the break now. Had known it, and had difficulty accepting it, for some time.

  She shrugged non-committally, continuing to pack the things from the top of her desk into the box in front of her. 'After five years I think it's time for a change.'

  'To do what?' he said with angry scorn, crushing even more the letter of resignation that had been the start of his fury.

  'Maybe I'll take up modelling,' she shrugged after a moment's thought. 'Everyone seems to believe I have the face and figure for it.'

  'You would be bored out of your mind within a week!' Dominic dismissed harshly, making no comment about what 'everyone believed' concerning her looks.

  'As long as that?' she returned consider­ingly, her head tilted to one side, her hair blonde and silkily straight to her shoulders. 'Maybe I should give an agency a ring.'

  'Cathy—'

  'Yes, Dominic?' she prompted smoothly, knowing that her own coolness in the face of his agitation was adding to his frustration with a situation that seemed out of his control; Dominic liked to be in control at all times.

  He glowered at her. 'If there's some sort of problem between us, couldn't you at least have come to me and talked about it instead of just leaving this on my desk for me to find when I went through my mail?' Once again he slapped the crumpled paper against the palm of his hand.

  'But there is no problem,' she told him dismissively. 'And where else would you have liked me to leave my letter of resignation? It wouldn't have done a lot of good sitting on my desk, now, would it?' she chided reasoningly.

  His eyes narrowed warningly at her con­tinued flippancy. 'I would rather you hadn't left the damned thing anywhere.'

  'But then you wouldn't have known I was leaving,' she pointed out practically, picking up the calendar from the side of her desk, de­bating whether or not it belonged to her per­sonally or to the office, and finally throwing it carelessly into the top of her box.

  'Will you stop being so damned—un­caring?' Dominic exploded once again.

  This volatile temper, joined by his razor-sharp brain, was something the City knew to be very wary of.

  To Cathy, these occasional lapses of temper just showed he was human after all!

  'Oh, lighten up, Dominic,' she advised him impatiently. '"It's Christmas Eve, and all's right with the world,"' she quoted drily.

  'Not my world,' he rasped. 'God, Cathy, no one gives immediate notice!'

  She was aware of that; she also knew that her having done so, and insisting that it go through, could be serious enough to make Dominic refuse to give her a reference.

  But she had made her decision to make the break and, having done so, she didn't want to be anywhere near Dominic, where her resolve could so easily be weakened, until she felt strong enough to cope with seeing him again. Maybe in a hundred years or so!

  'We have a contract, Cathy,' he reminded her hardly. 'It states that there should be three months' notice on either side. If you go ahead with leaving immediately I could sue you for breach of that contract.'

  She winced, knowing that if he got angry enough he was as likely to do just that. 'At Christmas?' She shook her head disgustedly. 'I always wondered what that middle initial "S" stood for in your name, and now I think I know: Scrooge could have taken lessons from you!'

  Red colour stained his cheeks. 'I've always been fair with you—'

  'Of course you have,' she cut in scornfully. 'That's why I've worked a constant sixty-hour week without holidays for the last five years!'

  His mouth tightened. 'I always paid you for the extra hours.'

  'Money isn't everything, Dominic,' she snapped scathingly. 'Oh, I'll admit I like the nice clothes and the apartment that money has allowed me to have, but at the rate I'm going I'll be too exhausted by the time I reach thirty to enjoy them any more! I'll just be a burnt-out money-grasper.'

  'Like me, you mean?' He met her gaze challengingly, his eyes as hard as emeralds.

  'Not at all,' she returned coolly. 'You'll never be burnt out; you thrive on this sort of life.' But they had both noticed, she was sure, that she made no comment on the second part of her description.

  How much money did one man need? Dominic had far more money than one man could spend in a lifetime, in actual fact had no one to leave the money to when he was gone, so he didn't even have the excuse that he was doing it for his family. And yet he continued to work long hours, constantly pushing himself, and those around him, so that he could add more millions to those he already had.

  Perhaps, if he actually seemed to go out and enjoy the money, Cathy could accept the way he was, but, apart from his luxurious apartment in town, his tailored clothes and his expensive cars, he spent very little on himself; not for him the playboy lifestyle his wealth could have afforded.

  Not that Cathy relished the idea of his be­having in that cavalier fashion, but the way he forged forward, earning more and more money just to put it away and more or less forget about it, seemed to her to stem more from a com­pulsion than from any real enjoyment in the act, or in wealth itself.

  His mouth twisted. 'But apparently it no longer appeals to you?'

  'No,' she confirmed flatly.

  He looked for a moment as if he would like to do her some sort of physical violence, al­though as usual he managed to keep himself under control.

  'Even so,' he bit out, 'you must see that you have to honour the three months' notice in the contract you signed when you first came to work for me.'

  Her brows quirked. 'The same way you've honoured the weeks' holidays I was supposed to have had each year, stated in that very same contract?' she reminded him without malice. 'I'll tell you what, Dominic, you forget about the three months' notice you say I owe you, and I'll forget all those weeks' holiday you owe me. And you'll still come out very much a winner!'

  His expression was grim as he looked down into her calm but determined face. 'I'm be­ginning to realise I made a mistake in working you so hard all these years,' he said slowly. 'You're obviously very much in need of a holiday; you seem to be suffering from a form of nervous exhaustion.'

  'Because I handed in my resignation?' She smiled, her expression pitying. 'You really don't know me very well at all, do you, Dominic?' she added with sad stoicism.

  'Of course I know you, damn it,' he rasped. 'I've spent almost every waking moment with you for the last five years!'

  More than a lot of married couples, in fact, and yet Cathy knew she was still far from knowing the real man that was Dominic. Oh, she knew the basic things, such as his liking for black coffee for breakfast, the way he always wore black shoes, the fact that he liked to read The Times no matter what part of the world they happened to be in at the time; she was very familiar with all of his likes and dislikes in food, knew that he hated the farce of situ­ation comedies on the television, that opera ac­tually put him to sleep no matter whom he happened to be spending the evening with; and she also knew that alcohol was something he rarely indulged in. On a day-to-day basis she probably knew as much, if not more, than the average wife who'd known her husband the same number of years. And yet Dominic's real emotions he kept very low-key, and his past life was a closed book.

  Dominic knew about her in just as much detail, but he was also privileged with the in­formation that she had a
sister called Penny with a family in Devon; he also knew about her life before the two of them had met and she had come to work for him.

  As for her emotions, he didn't want to know about them!

  'So you have,' she accepted lightly. 'Then you should know me well enough by now to realise that I haven't resigned lightly, without giving the whole thing serious thought.'

  'Of course I realise that,' he grated tautly. 'Which is why I think it would be a good idea if you took the next week off, after all—two weeks, if you would prefer,' he amended hastily at her derisive expression. 'Take the time to rest yourself, to rethink your decision.'

  'Two whole weeks, Dominic?' Cathy taunted. 'Are you sure you can spare them?'

  'It has to be better than having you leave for good,' he rasped irritably.

  Once again she smiled. 'Two weeks wouldn't be long enough.' She shook her head.

  'Then take three weeks, a month. Damn it, Cathy,' he scowled. 'Talk to me!'

  Now he wanted to talk to her. Although she didn't delude herself into thinking he wanted to talk about anything other than persuading her into continuing to work for him.

  'My letter of resignation says it all, Dominic' She shrugged dismissively, looking through the drawers in her desk to see if there was anything she had forgotten, before moving across the room to the window-ledge where she had slowly nurtured plants over the years into healthy adult plants; to leave them behind now would be like leaving part of herself behind. And she intended no part of her to remain here once she had physically left.

  Dominic followed her, and although Cathy didn't acknowledge his presence next to her as she filled the box with the plants, she could feel his nervous energy.

  'You say you want to move on to something different,' he quoted impatiently. 'But why? You know you love this job!'

  The statement had nothing to do with egotism; she had never made any secret of her enjoyment of the work she did for Dominic, which she had loved from the very first moment, and she would only be fooling herself if she didn't admit she was going to miss the constant excitement the work involved. But her ragged and bruised emotions knew best, re­alised when it was time to admit defeat in the face of indifference, and move on. Which was exactly what she intended doing.